


Scents and Butterflies

by XxTheDarkLordxX



Series: Latte Gifts [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fluff, Getting Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, M/M, Omega Draco Malfoy, Omega Verse, Post-Hogwarts, Scents & Smells, minimal angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28068540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxTheDarkLordxX/pseuds/XxTheDarkLordxX
Summary: “I don’t need an Alpha,” Draco said, fingers running through his hair—shaved at the side, the contrast of long strands melting into a fade of barely-there fuzz. “Nor would I fucking want one.”“I know it’s… progressive… these days to say such things,” Alberta said, lips curled into a sneer that could rival his fathers. “But a strong-willed Omega such as yourself needs an even stronger Alpha.”“You think Alphas are strong?” Draco asked, arms folded. “I’m sure they are but no Alpha has fucked me like an Omega can.”
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Latte Gifts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056137
Comments: 26
Kudos: 528





	Scents and Butterflies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rieraclaelin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rieraclaelin/gifts).



> Hello!! It's been a hot minute. Work has kept me busy and exhausted. Writing has been hard to do lately. But I opened up c********** and this one is for one of my bestest and favoritest people in the whole world. Jess I adore you. She wanted Omega verse so that's what she got. 
> 
> I've never written Omega verse, not really. so this was different for me. I hope you enjoy it!

Draco looked around the room, trying not to sneer at those who chose to attend. Gatherings had never been something he liked, the stench of others always clogged up his nose and ignited a sense of being trapped. But add in a Pureblood gathering and that just made it _that_ much worse.

His father would kill him if he left early, again, but there didn’t appear to be anyone of interest around. So, what was the point of mingling if they were all losers? A debate began to stir in his mind as he weighed the pros and cons of staying.

Pro: His father would be pleased. Con: His father would be pleased. Pro: He might actually meet someone. Con: He’d have to actually talk to someone.

Before a decision had been made, he recognized the smell of someone.

“Oi, Longbottom!”

Draco pretended he didn’t hear a groan in response. Longbottom was a prick. An Alpha prick.

“I know you can hear me,” sneered Draco when he made it to the dessert table and hadn’t been greeted.

Longbottom glanced up, treacle tart halfway to his mouth.

“I like to pretend you don’t exist.”

“I thought we were friends.”

Longbottom snorted, and Draco kind of hoped he’d choke on the treacle tart.

“Okay, acquaintances then.”

The doubtful expression he got in return made him dislike Longbottom even more.

“I don’t like you.”

“Would you look at that,” Longbottom gasped, crumbs spraying out of his mouth. “I don’t like you either.”

The longer Draco glared at Longbottom he wondered if he’d be able to manifest his magic into a stinging hex with just his eyes.

“What did you want?” Longbottom asked, putting down the rest of his treacle tart, as if that was doing Draco a big favour.

Draco wanted to shove the treacle tart in Longbottom’s face and storm out… but… he _did_ need help.

“There’s a mutual… friend… of ours—”

“You mean Harry?”

Draco narrowed his eyes as Longbottom _finally_ gave him his full attention.

“You know this… friend… of ours more than I do and—”

“Saying his name won’t hurt you.” Amusement radiated from Longbottom in waves, and Draco wanted to hex him.

“Since you know the friend more than I do, I figured you would be _kind_ enough to help me out.”

“Oh ho!” Longbottom slapped his knee. “The great Draco Malfoy needs _my_ help.” 

“Are you done?”

“No—”

“I will strangle you with your own plants.”

The offended scoff was music to Draco’s ears and reminded him of why he put up with Longbottom in the first place. 

“Are you going to help me or not?”

“What do I get out of it?”

“You get to keep your fingers intact.”

Longbottom looked a little queasy and that made Draco’s night.

“I’ll bite,” Longbottom began as he picked up the damned treacle tart again. “What do you want?”

“Why won’t Potter woo me?”

It turned out that his night truly was made as Longbottom choked on the damn dessert.

“Excuse me?” asked Longbottom between what looked like painful coughs.

Draco hoped his cheeks weren’t as visibly warm as they felt. “I’ve tried everything I can think of and he _still_ hasn’t offered to help me through a single heat.”

“Oh Merlin. Can you not—”

“Fuck, I’ll settle for a date, hand holding or even a bloody lusty gaze. Something, _anything_.”

Longbottom looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, but Draco wasn’t feeling particularly merciful.

“I’m going to regret this,” Longbottom sighed, eyes on the ceiling as he took a deep breath. “But what have you tried?”

Finally, now they were getting somewhere…

* * *

_Attempt one hundred_

Draco ignored the people who stopped what they were doing when he walked into the Ministry cafeteria. Most of them hated him and the rest, well they just disgusted him. His attention was on the only one sitting alone, the only one who _hated_ being interrupted.

“Evening,” Draco said as he looked around for a chair. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Potter vanished any extras to ensure no one sat nearby. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a chair, not caring that it left Barnes from the Department of International Sports falling to the ground.

A cry of pain echoed around the room, but Draco didn’t bother looking at Barnes, didn’t particularly care that the Alpha might have been hurt. 

“You know,” Potter began, lips twitching and eyes not looking up from the newest release of the Quibbler. “If you aren’t careful, you’ll end up with an HR complaint.”

Draco snorted as he tried to release pheromones subtly.

“That’s why it pays to be the department head of HR,” Draco said with a wink, not that Potter was _looking_ at him.

When all he got was another twitch of lips, Draco huffed. Screw subtle. When had he ever been subtle before? With a quiet inhale that he didn’t let out, Draco pushed more and more of his scent outward, hoping that Potter would take the hint.

“I’m curious.”

Draco sat up straighter when Potter _finally_ looked at him. The breath he had been holding rushed out in a noisy exhale that had a few people nearby looking at them funny.

“Why haven’t I had any HR reprimands?”

His shoulders slumped on instinct. Merlin, what did it take for Potter to get the hint that he was interested??

“Been harassing people, have you?” Draco said instead of speaking the words that had been aching to be spoken for months.

Potter lifted one shoulder in a half-arsed shrug. “Just being my charming self.”

“Now _that_ truly should be enough to alert HR,” Draco teased, trying not to preen at the way Potter’s eyes shone brighter the longer they talked.

“People don’t like me,” Potter said, tone clearly unbothered.

“That’s because you’re in Internal Affairs, Potter, no one likes you.”

_‘Except for me. I like you.’_

“Same could be said about you,” argued Potter. “No one wants to talk to HR.”

That wasn’t it. Maybe part of it, but Draco was pretty sure no one wanted to talk to him based on a million other reasons. None of them could he argue either.

“Who’s to say you haven’t had any complaints?” Draco said instead of bringing up his past.

Arched brows were his response before Potter leaned forward and Draco couldn’t have stopped the way his scent spiked if he had tried.

“If that was true then I would have been reprimanded before.”

Draco looked away, trying not to blush. “It’s entirely possible that they end up in the bin.”

When Potter’s brows arched even further, he added, “By accident, of course.”

“Of course,” Potter conceded, eyes roaming Draco’s face.

The longer they stared the more Draco released his scent. It was embarrassing to be so obvious, but he wasn’t brave enough to say what his body was already so willing to do for him.

“And why is that?” Potter asked, eyes still on Draco’s face.

A rush of disappointment filled him as he closed his eyes briefly before standing up.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out one day,” Draco said, not looking at Potter. He couldn’t. Not if he wanted to leave with a semblance of pride intact.

No matter how much he liked to insult Potter’s intelligence, they both knew Potter was smart. It was about time Draco realized that perhaps Potter just wasn’t interested.

* * *

“That’s it?” Longbottom asked, brows furrowed, and lips turned downward. “You flaunted your scent and expected him to fall in love? That’s so _Hogwarts_ of you.”

The urge to hex Longbottom grew stronger and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to ignore it.

“No,” Draco mocked head tilting forward. “I did more than that! That was just the best attempt.”

“Worse than I thought,” Longbottom mumbled, and Draco got the impression he was talking to himself. “If that was your best attempt, I don’t think I want to hear about any others.”

Draco’s fingers twitched towards his wand before he forced himself to relax. He needed Longbottom’s help. Hexing could wait until _after_ he got what he wanted.

* * *

_Lost count attempt_

They saw each other a lot. More than most people would think. There were several times a week Draco had to take what someone told him and file the proper paperwork to Potter’s department and vice versa.

This time, it was Potter’s turn to enter his office.

Draco had been doing absolutely nothing despite the large pile of parchment that still needed to be looked through.

“What are you doing?”

“Working,” Draco said, head tilted back and eyes on the ceiling as he twirled over and over in his chair.

“Clearly.”

“‘Tis hard work being me.”

Draco spared a glance toward Potter to see his lips curled upward, not quite a smile but it still did disgusting things to his stomach.

“Did you need something?” Draco asked as he arched his back, stretching out his neck. Some might think it was submission. Oh no. There was power in offering, power that he wanted to take.

“Er,” Potter glanced at Draco’s neck before his brows merged and a small frown formed.

With the attention that he craved on him, Draco let out his scent in waves, stronger than he had done before.

“Yeah I—”

The longer Potter frowned, the more prominent his wrinkles became. Harsh lines etched into beautiful skin. It made Draco want to smooth them out with his fingers and lips.

“What are you doing?”

And just like that the nearly nonexistent hope dwindled and he was sure his scent soured as it stunk up the room.

“Nothing, Potter. Nothing.”

* * *

“I’m going to ask you something,” Longbottom said, hands raised as if to protect himself from Draco’s reaction. “It might be revolutionary, so bear with me, but have you tried _talking_ to Harry?”

“Why would I want to do a stupid thing like that?” Draco scoffed. “You heard what happened the times I tried being obvious. Talking would just be asking for a flat-out rejection. Can’t get much worse than that.”

“I’d argue that your last one was a better attempt than the first one.”

Draco didn’t have the heart to tell Longbottom that it wasn’t the first one, that he had tried dozens of times, that it was just the first example shared.

“Regardless, the end result was the same,” Draco said bitterly. The more he thought about it the more he realized that there was probably nothing Longbottom could do.

If Potter wasn’t interested, then he wasn’t interested. No amount of painful flirting would change that.

Before Longbottom could say anything, a new voice had them both tensing.

“Draco dear, how lovely to see you.”

“Miss Yaxley, I didn’t know you’d be here.” If he had, he wouldn’t have bothered showing up. He turned to the side to see Alberta Yaxley, a positively ancient old evil bat waddle toward them.

“I was a partier in my youth,” she said with a wheezy laugh that surely came from having shriveled up lungs. “Thought I’d reminisce tonight.”

Draco didn’t want to think about what she was like in her youth any more than he wanted to think about a younger version of his parents. Some things were best left unsaid.

Her smile soured some as she took in who Draco was talking to.

“I always told your father you needed a strong Alpha, but I suppose any Alpha would do.”

“Oi!” Longbottom straightened up, teeth barring in a show that always left Draco rolling his eyes. Alphas were bloody annoying.

“I don’t need an Alpha,” Draco said, fingers running through his hair—shaved at the side, the contrast of long strands melting into a fade of barely-there fuzz. “Nor would I fucking want one.”

The sniff he got in response was just a tad shy of scandalous.

“I know it’s… _progressive_ … these days to say such things,” Alberta said, lips curled into a sneer that could rival his fathers. “But a strong-willed Omega such as yourself needs an even stronger Alpha.”

Strong willed. Clearly meant to be an insult but he refused to see it as one. He _was_ strong-willed, and he didn’t need anyone to match it. He didn’t _need_ anyone at all.

“You think Alphas are strong?” Draco asked, arms folded. “I’m sure they are but no Alpha has fucked me like an Omega can.”

Longbottom choked at the same time Alberta did, and he couldn’t decide who he wanted it to be more fatal on.

“Or perhaps a beta,” offered Draco, a hand extended outward. “Betas sure have a stamina that could put an Alpha to shame.”

“An Alpha can provide for you,” Yaxley said, straightening up and shaking a wrinkly hand at him. “Can protect what is theirs.”

“Provide for me?” Draco laughed, the sound hollow. “I can provide for myself. As for protection. I’m a bloody Malfoy, I don’t need protection. And I promise you, if I ever did, I’d keel over and die before asking an Alpha for something I can do my damned self.”

“Is your father aware of your—”

“Of my what?” Draco asked, tone as dangerous as he could make it. He watched Longbottom shift uncomfortably and a few others sniff the air before turning toward him in alarm.

“I would think very carefully, if I were you,” Draco continued, eyes narrowed, and hands clenched. “Just because you’re a nosy old bat of a senile Alpha doesn’t mean your shitty opinions have merit. A traditional relationship may have worked for you but it _doesn’t_ work for me.”

Draco took a deep breath before he turned around and walked away. Halfway to the door he lost the fight on staying quiet.

“You were right about one thing. I _am_ a strong-willed Omega. I’m not going to cave to what society wants from me and I sure as shit am not going to sit around and wait for what I want. I’m a strong-willed Omega who is going to do the taking, and if that bothers you then you can get bent.”

The whole world could get bent for all he cared.

* * *

_“Draco Malfoy tells Alphas to Get Bent for a Change.”_

“Shut up,” Draco groaned when he stormed up to Potter’s table in the cafeteria, bypassing Barnes and the way he clutched to his chair tightly. “How was I supposed to know a reporter for the Daily Prophet was there.”

Potter tossed the newspaper on the table, a small smile on his face.

“Is it weird that I’m kind of proud of you?”

 _Oh_.

His stomach moved from butterflies to a volcano of warmth that spread to his cheeks.

Proud. No one had ever been vocal in their pride of him before. Sure, his parents were proud of him… probably. If they were, it was the silent kind of proud with zero acknowledgement that transferred into years of needing therapy, but still. 

“Because I fuck Omegas?”

Potter snorted, eyes sparkling in a way that made the heat in his cheeks even warmer.

“That, and you aren’t afraid to be yourself.”

Draco wasn’t used to praises; wasn’t sure he was comfortable with it. He’d much rather compliment someone else.

“What about you?” Draco gestured forward.

Potter tilted his head, mirth causing an actual smile to form—not a tiny ghost of one that Draco was used to.

“Are you asking if I fuck Omegas?”

Draco sputtered, his face surely the shade of a bloody tomato. “No, I—”

“Or are you asking why I haven’t fucked you?”

There was a beat of silence before Draco slumped into a chair and hid his face in his arms. “Longbottom talked to you, didn’t he?”

“He can’t keep a secret, not even a little bit. All I did was floo him to see if I could come by and he blurted it all out before I could utter a greeting.”

“That would have been great to know before I said anything.” It came out muffled as his lips were pressed against the sleeve of his robes, but he was long past caring.

“You could have just talked to me,” Potter said, tone far gentler than Draco had heard from him before. He wasn’t sure if he liked it.

“Right,” Draco looked up, lips curling into a half-baked sneer with zero emotion. “Why would I after you ignored all my other attempts?”

Potter looked down at the table, tongue swiping his lips in a gesture that made Draco wonder if he was nervous.

“Attempts at what exactly?”

Draco arched a brow. “Are you having me on? I thought it was rather obvious.”

“I wasn’t sure what you were doing,” Potter admitted sheepishly. “I knew you were acting differently but I never could pinpoint it.”

“How?” Draco argued. “My scent spikes just looking at you.”

“Oh, I know,” Potter laughed and _that_ made his stomach churn uncomfortably. If he knew… then why? Why say nothing? Why do nothing?

“Malfoy.”

The only reason he looked up was the tone. It was soft. Gentle in a way that wasn’t directed at him often if ever.

“Your scent does nothing for me.”

His heart stung but he refused to show it. “If you’re just going to reject me—”

“No,” Potter stopped, his lips catching between his teeth—a flash of white. “That’s not it. No one’s scent does anything for me.”

“What?”

Potter looked uncomfortable but so was Draco and now that they were talking about it, he didn’t want to stop. He wanted answers.

“Objectively your scent is nice, probably.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m not attracted to your scent.”

“Yeah,” Draco said, hoping the emotions clawing at his throat weren’t as audible as they sounded. “I got that by now.”

“No, you don’t. I’m not attracted to anyone’s scent. No one.”

Draco blinked several times as the words reverberated around his mind.

“I’ve never understood the emphasis people put onto a scent,” Potter said as he scratched his chin. “Books, movies, magazines; they all romanticize the way people smell. Something that my mind naturally tunes out. They all act as if the first whiff is love at first sight. Sometimes people smell okay, and sometimes they reek. But that’s all they are to me, a smell.”

It was all spiraling. Draco felt like he was having an existential crisis. His entire life the smell of people drew him in, some more than others. Potter’s scent was strong in the same way his magic was. Everything about Potter’s smell drew him in, from the soothing after-scent to the powerful aroma. He _was_ attracted to scents and it was hard to grasp that Potter wasn’t.

“Then what are you attracted to?”

“I don’t know,” Potter whispered, eyes lowering to Draco’s chin. “Sometimes I think I don’t feel attraction at all. And then other times I think I fall for someone’s personality, their aura, their magic, who they are as a person.”

“And my personality?” Draco couldn’t help but wonder.

“Questionable at best.”

He was offended, definitely offended. At least until he saw Potter’s lips twitching.

“I hate you.”

Potter grinned, actually grinned and Draco’s breath caught in his throat.

“You annoy the hell out of me,” Potter said, and Draco was questioning the offended bit again. “Sometimes I think you do it on purpose just to get a reaction.”

“I do.”

Potter’s eyes closed as the grin melted into something softer and Draco feared for his heart, he truly did.

“For reasons I can’t explain, I _enjoy_ being around you.”

“You are really arse at romance, I’ll have you know,” Draco said.

When Potter rolled his eyes, Draco couldn’t withhold his own smile. He loved annoying Potter. Craved it even.

“I like you Malfoy, God knows why but I like you.”

His scent grew stronger and he knew it was emotions causing it but he couldn’t stop, not with how _happy_ he was. Several people covered their noses and sent either glares or curious glances their way.

When Potter showed no outward reaction, Draco hummed. “And it does nothing for you?”

“Not even a little bit.” 

Draco’s fingers began to fiddle with his robes. “I’m not good with words. It’s why we’re having this conversation now and not a year ago. But I express my feelings through my body, through my scent. Is that—is that okay? Will it make you uncomfortable?”

Potter’s face crumpled into an emotion that had _never_ been sent his way nor was he able to decipher.

“Merlin, I could kiss you.”

Startled, Draco’s head jerked back in surprise before he let out a laugh that was far breathier than intended.

“As long as you don’t expect me to respond the same way, then I’ll be fine,” Potter said softly. “I don’t mind your scent. I’m not attracted to it, but I like it. I think it’s cute how responsive you are to my presence.”

“Whoa there,” Draco held up a hand. “Don’t get a big head now, no one said all that.”

Potter grabbed the hand still in the air and entwined their fingers. “You don’t have to be good with words. I’ll speak enough for the both of us.”

Draco’s eyes were on their hands. It took a bit to swallow the emotions down before he could meet Potter’s gaze.

“Only if you let me smell for the both of us.”

He didn’t get that kiss Potter mentioned, but he did get their foreheads pressed against each other and soft touches to softer smiles.

And that might be even better. 

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this and I wonder how many people picked up on the things I didn't say. I have a soft spot for OmegaVerse fics. I get why a lot of people don't like them. There are a lot of things that I wish weren't included in OmegaVerse stuff. Bad tropes and gross sterotypes. But the thing I adore about OmegaVerse is the way some people combat all of that. The way they weave beautiful masterpieces. 
> 
> My story is a bit short to ever be a masterpiece but I really do adore it. There are so many different kind of love languages out there and I melt at the thought of these two dorks being unapologetically themselves and not changing the way they love to fit someone else. 
> 
> My favorite kind of OmegaVerse fics are non traditional ones. Alpha/Alpha is my all time favorite but I love Omega/Omega, Alpha/Beta, Omega/Beta the most. And yes, I do enjoy Alpha/Omega too. But there's something about the non traditional ones that pull me in the hardest. 
> 
> You may wonder as to what Harry is. I had a really really hard time deciding if I wanted him to be an Omega or a Beta. Like I couldn't choose. I went into the story wanting him to be a Beta but then I fell in love with the idea of them both being Omegas. But in the end, I think I'll leave it up to your interpretation. I never did explicitly say, but I did hint. Either way, I'll let you decide. 
> 
> I hope you guys liked this story! Let me know what you thought and I'll see you next time
> 
> —XxTheDarkLordxX


End file.
